


Blessed Are the Meek

by Clockwork_Roses



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Earth C (Homestuck), Fluff, Hiveswap: Friendsim, Lifeboat, Multi, Post-Canon, Redemption Arc for an Entire Civilization, Religious Imagery I Guess, Someone Please Save These Children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-08 04:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17379824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clockwork_Roses/pseuds/Clockwork_Roses
Summary: After the disappearance of MSPA Reader from Alternia, a number of those whose lives they touched are offered an incredible opportunity for a better future.If Hiveswap: Friendsim was like a very fine microplane to your soul, this may be the balm for that.





	1. Boldir

A door closes.

Something is forgotten.

Memories that do not vanish all at once, but fade away gradually.  An encounter--  _ were we fated to meet each other? _ \-- perhaps not entirely by chance.

Hands have been moving pieces into place, altering the course of history to suit their own ends.  But the owner of these hands, concealed behind a curtain of secrecy, cannot control all factors.

Boldir does not fight the memory fading.  She lets it slip away, through open fingers.

A thread has been pulled from the fabric of fate, connections un-made.  But the pin-pricks in the cloth of the universe remain, bright like stars against the blackness of space.

A map.

A voice rises in the silence, whispers to Boldir in the stirrings of her  _ heart _ \-- no, her bloodpusher, of course.  It tells of a role she has been chosen to play.

She will be a messenger, and a judge.

These pinpricks, these points of light, are individuals whose bonds to their time and place have been loosened.  She will visit each in turn, and will be the feather against which their souls are weighed, and to those who are found worthy, she will deliver salvation.

The path she follows has been walked before, the footsteps now washed away.  She watches, unseen, only revealing herself to those she selects. Some are not ready.  Some may never be.

Of those she chooses, some accept readily.  Some hesitate. One breaks down sobbing. One rejects outright, throwing insults, but as she leaves, the vacant eyes of his partner follow her.

When at last they gather, all are present.

Clouds flood the sky and rain follows.  The trolls arranged around Boldir’s garden huddle, mostly alone, some in pairs.  The Jadebloods stick together, and their leader pulls some of the youngest of the others towards her.

Boldir sits at the center of a particular symbol, formed by the path that winds through her garden before coiling in on itself.  She waits.

On the faces of those gathered, she sees excitement, skepticism, nervousness, boredom.  But in every one, be it veiled or openly, she sees misery-- and hope.

The universe shifts.

It is as if they are being held, cradled in two hands, and lifted, not  _ up _ , but  _ away _ , in some direction not previously perceived.

Boldir finds herself looking into eyes that she finds very familiar-- benevolent, but infinitely cold.

The Muse of Space speaks.  “You have brought them, then.”

Boldir nods.

“I could never create a new universe,” the Muse tells her, “but I can do this.  I can sow the seeds of an old one anew.”

“And,” she adds, “I can take from him what was never his.”  The Muse does not name this “him,” but Boldir knows who she is referring to.

Then, the path beneath their feet unwinds, leading off into the darkness.

The disaffected-looking Jadeblood waves her hand impatiently.  “So… that’s it?”

Boldir smiles.  “That’s it.” She speaks up now, more loudly than she ever has, and her voice cracks slightly.  “The way out.”

She sets off down the path and the others follow her, through the darkness and into a new world.

A window opens.


	2. Tyzias

The plain interior of the building was probably technically a throne room, and there was even  throne, or a chair anyways, above which someone-- probably Terezi, but there were a few other suspects-- had scribbled Karkat’s sign in bright red chalk.  The ostensible ruler of the trolls was not occupying the chair-throne, because he was too busy being over on the other side of the room trying to make plans with Kanaya while Dave kind of leaned on his shoulder.

“Yo, so I looked up refrigerators on the remains of the internet,” Dirk swooped in on his rocketboard, “and I got the deets on this whole groceries thing.”

Karkat, annoyed at the interruption, turned and yelled at him, “You can’t take Dave grocery shopping, we haven’t invented the economy yet, numbnuts!”

Only, about halfway through, there was a flash of green light and the room suddenly became significantly more crowded as Jade and the new trolls appeared there.

“Look what I found!” she exclaimed.

Tyzias, however, was not listening.  Her jaw dropped open when she saw the bright red sign on the wall and again, albeit in subtler grey, on Karkat’s shirt.  While everyone else was making the rounds of introductions, he inevitably noticed her staring.

“What?”

She forcibly pulled herself together, taking a long sip from her mug before reaching down to carefully set it by her feet.  When she straightened up, she was holding both hands in front of her chest in a sign that mimicked Karkat’s own.

“Oh.”  He crossed his arms defensively over his chest.

Tyzias retrieved her mug and sauntered closer.  “You know about him?”

He shrugged. “I heard it from some ghost.”

She looked back at the Sign emblazoned on the wall, then down at the chair-throne.  She scowled a little.

“No pressure, eh?”

He gave a sort of whole-body shrug that was also maybe a shudder.

Taking a sip from her mug, Tyzias looked around.  Everyone, including their respective significant others, was busy meeting one another.  She nudged Karkat with her elbow.

“Don’t think they’ll miss us for a few minutes, do you?”

He shrugged but followed her out, into the sunlight that still forced her to squint.  She looked down at her mug.

“You know the Empire is shit, right?  Or… was?”

“Yeah.”  He didn’t look any less miserable.  “I just… look, I know most of my friends and I would have been culled if we weren’t pretty much in hiding.  But I had all of these ideas about who I wanted to be when I grew up and joined the army. Which, stupid me!  That was never going to happen!”

Tyzias blinked, but let him go on.

“But right up until the end, I kept letting myself get dragged along on the promise of some stupid echo of my idiot self’s idiot wriggler fantasies!  Of being some great warrior, I guess!

“And then hey, here’s this asshole!  He’s some fucking saint or something, and guess what? I inherited his legacy!

“Just… what is that?  What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

They had stopped walking, and in his frustration, Karkat was gesturing wildly.  However, having finished, and meeting no equal energy from Tyzias to work off of, he let his hands drop.

“Lemme tell you about the Sufferer.”

He gave her a skeptical look.  “Why?”

“I dunno.”  She shrugged.  “Maybe it’ll clear some things up, or some things’ll fall into place.”

He sighed.  “Okay, fine.”

They wandered off a ways, and found a tree to sit under, and she told him the story of the Sufferer, and he listened.  He had heard the story before, but differently, told by another voice. As Tyzias told it, the story took on new meaning, new weight.  Her story was not one of miraculous visions, but a wish born of compassion. In the end, she trailed off and the pair lapsed into silence.

“Is that why you left?” Karkat asked after a while.

Tyzias sighed.  “I mean, it’s not great, knowing what I left behind.  Maybe if I’d stayed, I could have made things better. But most likely not.  And this?” she waved the mug, indicating the whole world they were in, “It’s a blank slate.  No more pissing in the fire.”

“We don’t have to make all the same fuckups.”

“Yeah.”

Karkat looked down at his hands.  He still felt the weight of it all, if anything, more tangibly than before.  But the nature of that burden had changed. He was not alone, not in any sense of the word.  Bonds of blood stretched out-- to some past legacy, to his civilization and his species, to his friends, both living and dead.  It felt… powerful.

He looked up at Tyzias, who was giving him a broad but lopsided grin.

“Hey, you need any pointers on how not to run a legal system, I got a couple million.”

He returned the grin.  “Oh hell yes. You are henceforth named my top advisier or whatever dumbass title you want in charge of not fucking everything up.”

When they got back, the others were still milling about.  Karkat flung the door open and took two strides into the room.

“Hey, fuckheads!” He yelled.  “We got a whole lotta new assholes just showed up, so if we’re all done becoming the best of bulge-bumping pupa pals by now, they’re gonna need somewhere to sleep.”

He started issuing commands, organizing anyone within earshot into helping.  Tyzias was flanking him, standing just little bit straighter than usual, still grinning, all teeth.


	3. Bronya

In the lull between the task of making sure that sufficient shelter, mostly temporary, existed to house all of the new arrivals and the whole affair of deciding who, precisely, would go here, Bronya looked around and realized that her jades were not at her side.  She would just have to find them, of course. She was grateful there were so many of them, among the group, she really was. But these in particular could be… a little difficult, she had to admit.

Lanque wasn’t far away, arm already flung over the shoulders of a troll who, well, looked like they could use some… special attention, was all.  Of a very different sort than Lanque was currently directing at them.

“Hey, it’s cool you want to hang out and vape and all,” they somehow managed to shrug nonchalantly despite the arm around their shoulder, and end up a little further away from Lanque in the process, “but I totally forgot my rig back on Alternia lmao.”

Lanque’s attitude chilled considerably upon hearing this, and Bronya took the chance to step in.

“What, exactly, do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, hands perched on her hips.

Her errant jade fixed her with a poisonous glare.  “I really don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

“Yeah.”  Her other jade, Daraya, had just picked the worst possible moment to show up.

“I’m just making sure that--” Bronya faltered, but continued, “we’re all safe, and everything gets taken care of.”

“What, you think we left Alternia just so we could rebuild everything terrible about it here?” Daraya shot at her.

Bronya blinked, stunned.  “No, of course, I--”

“Haha, y’all are like, drama central.”  The troll Lanque had been making a pass at wore a winning smile completely at odds with the situation.  “I’m out.”

They flashed some sort of hand sign that meant nothing to Bronya and made their escape.  Staring down the other two jades--  _ her _ jades-- Bronya wished she could do likewise, even though, of course, that would get her the opposite of what she wanted.

“Did you really think,” Lanque sneered, “that you would get to keep playing Little Miss Schoolfeeding Enforcer here?  Sure, you were always ‘not a revolutionary,’ but you were happy to stand opposite the threat of Imperial culling when it kept us all in line.  And now, that’s gone.”

The accusation struck deep, and before she knew it, Bronya was yelling back.

“How can you be so selfish?!  And ungrateful?! We all have to pitch in, all have to do our part, and I protected everyone!  I protected you!”

Her hands were clenched at her sides and already she could feel tears threatening to spill down her face.  For a moment, she thought that Daraya was going to snap back, but Lanque, still acidly cool, put out a hand to stop her, and of course, the one time Bronya would have welcomed a fight with Daraya, the punk held her tongue.

“I don’t have to deal with this,” Lanque declared, and sure enough, he swept away.

“Ditto,” Daraya mumbled, and likewise departed.

Bronya bit her lip, fighting back a cry of frustration.   _ Why? _ she wondered.   _ Why did it have to be those two? _

Out of all of her jades, they were always the ones who gave her the most trouble, who pushed back the hardest.  And out of all of her jades, they were chosen by some unseen hand to come with her to the new world. Why?

In the back of her mind, a little wriggle of suspicion emerged that it was precisely this rebellious nature that made them suitable to be chosen, but she was too upset to address it.

“Ah.”

The voice was polite and… precise, somehow, and Bronya looked up to see the speaker.  It was a troll-- one of the three who were already here when they had arrived, and a jade like herself.  She was accompanied by-- oh.

She had rounded up the younger trolls-- Wanshi, Karako, and the twins, possibly with the help of the alien girl by her side-- humans, Bronya had heard them called.

“That’s Bronya!” Wanshi proclaimed.

“Yes,” the troll girl replied.  To Bronya, she said, “Then, I believe these are yours?”

“How--”  Her eyes lit upon the tag hanging around Karako’s neck.  “Yes. These are… mine.”

The word felt odd in her mouth, now.

“My name is Kanaya,” the troll girl said, then gestured towards the human, “and this is--”

“Rose.”  She held her hand out and Bronya took it, somewhat awkwardly, forcing herself to smile.

“I observed you had some sort of altercation with some of your fellow new arrivals,” the human girl-- Rose-- stated.

“I--” Bronya was, yet again, at a loss for words.

“I do not believe that she wishes for us to interfere in the matter,” Kanaya interjected.

Rose accepted this verdict with a little shrug.  Wanshi, however, was bursting with curiosity and unburdened by tact.

“Altercation?  You mean, you got in a fight?”

Bronya’s smile faltered, but she held on.  She almost reached out to pat Wanshi on the head, but then thought better of it.

“Daraya and Lanque… don’t want me telling them what to do anymore,” she explained.  “I guess you don’t either, huh?”

Nope, that was the wrong thing to say.  Wanshi’s eyes went wide with apprehension.  Of course, Bronya scolded herself, they had just left behind everything, there was no way Wanshi would be ready to push away from someone who cared for her.

“No!  I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean-- oof!”

This last came as she was staggered by the sudden impact as Wanshi flung herself at Bronya and wrapped her arms around the older girl’s waist.

“Ahem.”

Kanaya and Rose were still standing there, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Oh!  Thank you for bringing them back.  And… I’m sorry, I’m really not making the best impression now, am I?”

Rose smiled.  “I have no idea why that would be.  It isn’t as if you just left behind everything you knew to join us here, or anything.”

“But… that’s exactly what we did.”

“Rose is doing a human thing called sarcasm,” Kanaya explained.  “It will likely grow on you, in time.”

“Oh.”

“I had meant to ask you something,” Kanaya began, looking away.  Was she  _ nervous _ ?  “Did you work in the brooding caverns?”

“I did, but…” Bronya couldn’t finish.

“I would not want to push you into anything you did not wish to do.  However, I… have been given the chance to take part in our species’ rebirth, in quite a literal sense.  And… if you are interested, I would very much appreciate the help of someone with experience.”

The reality of the situation dawning on her, Bronya took a deep breath and let it out slowly, giving herself time to quiet her doubts.  She was somewhat less than completely successful.

“But I’ve never hatched a matriorb before, I’ve only ever read about it in books--”

Rose reached out a hand to stop her.  “You see, given present conditions, this still qualifies you as the most informed about the subject in question.  What’s more, if I may be so bold as to make an observation, you have already shown some tendencies of a nurturing nature.”  She gave a grin that was warm but somewhat sly.

Bronya looked at the young trolls gathered around her-- at Karako and the twins and Wanshi looking up at her, still holding onto her waist.  Maybe she wasn’t much more grown up than they were, maybe she really was just  _ playing _ at taking care of them.  But it was still important to her.  It was still something she wanted to keep trying to do.

“Yes,” she said.  “I want to help you.”


	4. Skylla

The matter of shelter was settled, for the immediate future anyways, but what would they eat?  They had been alchemetizing food so far, and the former players had enough grist cached that starvation was not an immediate concern, but this was clearly not a long-term solution.

A number of self-selected groups had undertaken various agricultural projects-- pumpkins seemed to be a favorite of the carapacians, in particular.  The team working on breeding livestock through the ectobiology cloning system consisted of only two members. There had been three, but upon suggesting they mix in troll or human DNA, “just to see what happens,” Dave had been forcibly removed from the premises.

“You used to have a ranch back on Alternia?” Jade asked, looking up from the display screen she had been studying.

Skylla grinned sheepishly.  “Sure did.”

“What was it like?”

The human-- or, mostly human-- girl’s enthusiasm seemed endless.  Skylla chuckled.

“Well, I lived out of town a ways.  Just me and Lady and the herd. Didn’t get many visitors, either.  Bandits, sometimes.”

“Oh, wow!” Somehow, Jade managed to sound excited even when she was preoccupied.  She spun around to look at Skylla.

“What do you think?”

Skylla peered at the console Jade was working at and sighed with a shrug.  “Doesn’t mean much to me, I’m afraid.”

“Oh.”  Her expression dimmed for a moment, but the moment passed quickly.  “Do you want me to show you?”

Skylla hesitated, the phrase _just a bronze blood_ hovering on the tip of her tongue, but she brushed it away.

“Sure, why not?”

Together, they leaned over the console, Jade pointing at various sections of genetic code and explaining their function.  At one point, she gave a little “woof,” for emphasis, maybe. She can’t really control the woofs. Skylla put a hand over her mouth to stifle a chuckle, but made no comment.

Once the paper and crayons got broken out-- neither Skylla nor Jade could recall who suggested it, nor why crayons in particular-- it was not long before the entire facility was covered in sloppy, multi-colored diagrams.  Skylla, forgetting not to consider herself an expert in anything, had launched into a detailed talk about hoofbeast conformation, complete with impromptu illustrations. She glanced over at Jade, to see if the mostly-human girl was still following, and stopped.

Jade was sitting in a way that could only be described as _on her haunches_ , complete with hands out in front of her knees, big white furry ears pricked up.

“Huh?” she asked, tilting her head such that the likeness was even more striking.

“You… remind me of my dog.”

“Your dog?”

“My lusus, Lady.”

They’d all had to leave their lusii behind, or the ones whose lusii were still alive had, when they came here.  Skylla had known for a long time that she and Lady would eventually be separated, and she’d at least had a chance to say goodbye, but the loss still hurt.  She wondered if she was going to cry in front of this new friend.

“Oh, you mentioned her!”  Jade wasn’t oblivious to Skylla’s distress, but she didn’t seem to know how to respond to it.  “She was your lusus, and your dog, so… you were raised by your dog?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s… kinda funny, actually.”

“How?”  Skylla failed to see the humor in the situation.

“Not like, _funny_ funny, just… I was raised by my dog as well, see?”

“Your lusus was a dog?”

“Well, humans don’t have lusii.  We’re mostly raised by other adult humans.  But my Gramps was dead, so… my dog Bec ended up taking care of me instead.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry about your-- about Lady.”

“Thanks.”  Skylla sighed.

They got back to work, more soberly now.  Every once in a while, Jade glanced over at Skylla, looking concerned.  But when she did nothing to clear the air, Skylla made the first move.

“Hope you don’t mind my asking, but what happened to your-- to Bec?”

“Oh, that’s… kind of complicated, actually!”  Jade reached and rubbed the base of one large, furry ear.  “He’s.. a part of me now, I guess.”

Skylla tried to wrap her thinkpan around this, and failed.  “What?”

“It was… part of the game, the one where we built the universe.  Bec merged with the kernelsprite and then… so did I. That’s why I have ears and stuff!”

“Huh.  Guess I had been wondering about that,” Skylla mused.

Jade tapped out a few more adjustments, guided by Skylla’s input, and they both stepped back, grinning at each other a little nervously.

“Well?”  The dog-human girl gestured towards the button that would put their work to the test.

“Together?” Skylla asked.

They both placed their hands on the big button and, with a nod from Jade, pressed down, fingers brushing in the process.  Machinery clicked and whirred, and with a sizzling flash, a small creature, somewhat like a cow and pure white, materialized on the platform behind them.

While Skylla looked it over, Jade watched expectantly.

“So?”

“Not quite what I’m used to, but it looks healthy enough.”

They looked at it.  It went “moo.” Jade’s ears twitched.

“So, what now?”  Skylla asked.

“Well, it’s probably best to see how it’s doing when it’s grown up a little, in case something goes wrong.”

“You’re probably right about that.”

“Maybe we shoulda kept Dave around to do his Time thing,” Jade mused.

“We could always let it grow up the old-fashioned way.”

Skylla thought the dog-girl looked inordinately excited at this.  “We can have a farm!”

“Sure we can.”  She couldn’t help but grin a little at the prospect, herself.

Jade bounded forward, without warning, and planted a light kiss on the corner of Skylla’s mouth.  Skylla gave a little help in surprise, but while Jade bounced back away, she didn’t seem at all discouraged.

“It’s okay if that’s not how you feel about me!  But I just wanted to put it out there, rather than waiting around wondering what would happen if I did.”

Skylla chuckled.  “Naw, that’s fine, darling.”

She drew Jade back towards her, one hand coming to rest between the large fuzzy ears, and returned the kiss.


	5. Chixie

An outsider might have been surprised at how quickly the music scene on Earth C sprang up, but only if said outsider did not take into account the particular details of how readily material concerns could be dealt with, or that an almost unusual number of the new world’s citizens had musical backgrounds.

Atop the newly-constructed stage of the newly-constructed amphitheater, Chixie finished up her set, bathing in the enthusiastic applause from the crowd that followed.  The positive reception, she was used to-- when people heard her, they tended to like her-- but she was still riding the minor crest of elation at how smooth the logistics of her performing had been, how she wasn’t being treated as some sort of intruder, barely tolerated.  There had even been a schedule slip due to technical difficulties and she  _ still _ hadn’t gotten bumped, or been instructed to shorten her set.

She made her way offstage amidst another round of applause encouraged by the human MC-- Dave, she recalled, because it was always good to keep track of names.  The tech guy flashed her a friendly set of devil horns and she smiled back instinctively. Attention was a mixed bag, as always. Easier to want when you weren’t getting it.

Even now, when people were being genuinely nice as a rule, actually having their eyes on her still put her just a little more on edge.  Especially with relative highbloods like the tech guy. Mallek, right?

She made it almost all the way to the tent that functioned as a dressing room without running across any more of her adoring public.

“Hey babe.”

Chixie was gathering up to haul off and punch whoever said that in the jaw, reveling in the fact that she could do that now, when the rest of her thinkpan caught up with the inflection of it-- flat, aside from a hint of an ironic twist, with none of the growling undertones of expectation.  What was more, one look at the speaker revealed them to be the one troll she was pretty sure knew better than to try that angle with her.

“Heard you spinning some pretty sick tunes,” they continued with a grin that Chixie recognized instantly, as it was a mirror of her own.

“Cirava, right?”  She saw suspicion flicker behind one acid-pastel-lime eye and hurried to clarify.  “I follow you a few places on the web.”

“Oh cool... I didn’t know I had fans like you,” they replied, more at ease.  “I thought they were all kinda losers, lmao.”

Chixie would never admit it-- couldn’t insult anyone’s taste when that taste was you-- but  _ man _ was that relatable.

“So did you just want to say hi?”

“I just got this idea, maybe you and I could do a collab... turn out some jams, you know?”

For once, Chixie’s smile was entirely genuine.  “That would be really great!”

There was no need to exchange contact info, as they were both public enough presences.  Nonetheless, several minutes of awkward smiling and empty pleasantries ensued before Chixie managed to break away, pointing out that she still had to get changed and promising to reconnect soon.

“Soon” turned out to be later that day.  Cirava had been the first to contact her, so Chixie figured the recreation sphere was firmly in her half of the competition grid.  She had her own place not far away; not large, but nice enough, and most importantly  _ hers _ .  She got home, got things cleared away, and went through her usual routine on social media: post-show thank yous, sorting through e-mails, replying to comments.

Things were going well!  Her fans, though few in number, represented a significant portion of the planet’s total population, not to mention they were actually  _ nice _ to her.  It was all she’d ever wanted.  It was a  _ good _ life.

Her cursor hovered over the name in her chat client.  They still seemed a little untouchable. She had been following them for sweeps, certainly longer than they had known of her.  The difference in their respective popularity had been wiped away when they left Alternia, they were equals now, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was only a fan, and had no business bothering them, even if they had been the one tomake the first move.

And, well, she  _ had _ been following them for sweeps.  She knew how it all happened. Even though she knew it wasn’t fair, even far away from the empire and their drones, she still felt as if she was running headlong into an invisible wall:  _ this is not someone you associate with, not if you know what’s good for you _ .

Chixie gathered up her nerves and opened up the chat window.

accordantTrouveur [AT] began bothering transcendentAxiom [TA]

AT: hi

AT: I hope I’m not/ actually bothering you/ or interrupting something

TA: nah your good

TA: nothing to interrupt

TA: just the usual

TA: sitting in my hive alone lmao

AT: oh/ um

TA: anyways

The two talked for a while, fleshing out ideas and tossing a few samples back and forth.  Before long, however, the limitations of digital communications began to make themselves increasingly clear, and after some polite sidestepping of the issue and a particularly pronounced pause, Cirava proposed that Chixie come over to their hive for a recording session, and she accepted, trying not to overcompensate too much for her earlier hesitation.

Signing off, she reached for a notebook she kept on a shelf over her husktop.  The pages were filled with notes and excerpts, and she hummed a few bars here and there as she flipped through them before coming to a blank page. She took a deep breath, thinking back over everything, and started to write.

The next day-- she was still getting used to  _ days _ \-- Chixie took the notebook with her to Cirava’s hive for the recording session.  They lived out of the way; Chixie was a bit surprised at this, but then, she hadn’t seen them around much at all, so maybe she shouldn’t have been.

The door swung open before she even had a chance to knock, revealing her host.  Someone who was unfamiliar with the moisturewave aesthetic might have thought that Cirava had thrown on whatever was at hand when they rolled out of their respiteblock, but Chixie  _ had _ followed them for sweeps, and she could tell that they had put effort into looking this casually florid.  She smiled and waved in greeting. They did likewise.

“Hey, welcome to my hive,”  they gestured her in. “I’m working on it but it’s still kind of a dump, lmao.”

This was hardly the case-- the space inside was neat and carefully laid out, if sparsely decorated-- but Chixie wasn’t sure whether to say so or not.  She settled on changing the subject, holding up the notebook.

“I’ve been working on some stuff, maybe we could go over it?”

The two of them settled into the patterns of professionalism.  Both were good at it. If Chixie was surprised, she knew she shouldn’t have been.  Cirava had kept multiple channels running, at least one nonstop, since before…

Since before.

As the session wa wrapping up, Cirava added, “If you want we could just hang for a while,” and flashed a quick grin at Chixie, which she recognized all too well.

“Oh, um.  I don’t actually--” she wasn’t quite sure how to say it.

“Haha nah... I don’t mean drugs, I forgot that shit back on Alternia, lmao.”

Somehow, that was what drove the sincerity of the request home for Chixie.

“Yeah, sure we can hang out.  You know,” She let the smile fade from her lips, for once, because she knew she would be saying it to the one person who would understand, “I’m happy here.”

It was a good life.


End file.
